


Must We?

by Anonymous



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017), Call Me By Your Name - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, First Time for Everything Fest, M/M, Oliver's POV, Oral Fixation, Oral Sex, Resolved Sexual Tension, between the boys, i just moved up the sex in the timeline bc reasons, namely the scene, yes oliver has one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-10
Updated: 2019-04-10
Packaged: 2020-01-10 19:12:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18414116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: “C’mon. What’s wrong? Don’t you want a swim?”Oliver’s thumb itches to rub over the silky skin of Elio’s inner wrist, but he holds himself back, starting to let go of that slender arm, only to notice that the boy hasn’t. “No.”Something hot is beginning to crawl down Oliver’s spine, and it’s not from the humidity spilling through the windows. He blinks again, and Elio’s eyes dart down his bare chest, breaking the stare.





	Must We?

**Author's Note:**

> dfkjhgkzjlhdfkjha this is a thing i wrote ages ago after the movie for a friend and i've never touched this ship again since. figured i'd post it since it might make people happy!

Elio looks up at him, and asks, “Must we?”

Oliver blinks, for one long moment, he stares into the boy’s green eyes, after that, he’s lost. 

He can feel the way Elio’s pulse ratchets faster, while his own leisurely pounds in his ears, he’s looking too much. His hand flexes over Elio’s, and he starts to move. 

Oliver starts to tug Elio up off the bed, and rocks back onto his heels, forcing a smile to full wattage though he barely feels it. Elio gives him all of his arm’s slack and doesn’t move. 

“C’mon. What’s wrong? Don’t you want a swim?” 

Oliver’s thumb itches to rub over the silky skin of Elio’s inner wrist, but he holds himself back, starting to let go of that slender arm, only to notice that the boy  _ hasn’t _ . “No.” 

Something hot is beginning to crawl down Oliver’s spine, and it’s not from the humidity spilling through the windows. He blinks again, and Elio’s eyes dart down his bare chest, breaking the stare. 

Oliver’s never felt self conscious, not with this boy, not until now, and he’s mildly terrified that he’s growing hard, perhaps giving away his impossible interest. 

He checks himself quickly, subtle as can be, and then returns his gaze to Elio, relieved to note he’s not. 

But Elio might be… he’s sitting with his legs folded, knees angling into his chest, heels still perched on the edge of the bed, not yet sprung off it. Oliver becomes distracted by Elio’s feet, just briefly, wondering if he should curl his fingers around the boy’s ankles and lift him out of bed that way. 

Or perhaps toss him over his shoulder, like a caveman, and simply drag him off to the pool. 

Better yet, to his bedroom. 

Oliver shakes himself, and tries to focus on the present. 

There’s a problem, namely, Elio isn’t giving any ground, and Oliver’s  _ definitely _ about to start getting hard now. The boy’s still holding his arm, and pulling him closer. 

“What’s this about?” 

Elio swallows, Oliver is helpless to watch the movement, the slow fall and rise of his throat, and all that he’s dreamed of for the last couple days suddenly flares to the forefront of his mind. Elio, flat on his back, head hanging off the bed, letting Oliver drive his cock between those perfect lips, currently being worried between white, uneven teeth. 

Elio says nothing, but firmly yanks on Oliver’s hand, throwing him off balance, and shocking him into silence. He goes, of course, he yields to Elio because it’s what he wants, desperately, painfully. 

There’s a sort of ache in his chest, and his cock is paying way too much attention. Elio inhales sharply, and Oliver’s hand is guided down to make contact with the boy’s chest. 

His hand splays flat on Elio’s warm skin, and he can tell that now both of their hearts are racing.

“You know, don’t you?” He says, and Oliver wracks his brain to try and decipher that sentence. 

It’s cryptic, alluring, and Elio keeps pulling him closer, urging his hand lower. 

Oliver’s kneeling on the bed now, aware of this delicate moment, this fragile intimacy, and Elio’s beginning to lay back down, legs unfolding, so that there’s no mistaking his erection tenting his swim shorts. 

Oliver’s vision goes spotty, and he opens his mouth to protest, to argue this is a horribly bad idea, but Elio inhales deeply, and then pushes his hand to the waistband of his shorts. 

Oliver’s heart feels like it’s in his throat, and all he can do is keep his eyes on Elio, watching how the boy’s pupils expand so that black swallows up green flecked with gold, as his fingertips edge under the fabric, and brush against soft swirls of hair. 

His cock is wetting the front of his swim shorts now, probably dangerously close to peeking out of the bottom hem, but Oliver can’t move, all he can do is  _ do _ what Elio wants. He curls his fingers and tugs, not to free himself from Elio’s grasp, but to pull his shorts down, out of the way. 

Oliver hears Elio’s breathing hitch when he does this, as it makes his fingers come into contact with the boy’s cock, the hard line of it burning his hand. Elio gasps and quickly muffles it into a hiss behind his teeth when Oliver actually takes ahold of his cock. 

He feels wetness under his thumb, and gently strokes over the slit, dragging his hand all the way back to the base of Elio’s cock. 

“Is this what you want?” Oliver asks, the closest thing to painful honesty he’s going to allow himself to say. Elio  _ must _ want this. 

Must say it’s okay. 

Or Oliver won’t be able to live with himself. 

His eyes dart up to the boy’s, and he barely sees him nod, for all that his focus is narrowing onto Elio’s lips, slick with saliva as he licks them and then tilts his head to the side, back arching, while Oliver slowly jerks his hand over his cock. 

“Okay.” Somehow he gets the impression that more is desired, so when Elio bucks his hips up, he gives it. Oliver is then able to pull the boy’s swim shorts off completely, tossing them to the side with little care for where they land. Elio reaches out with his free hand and grabs for the back of Oliver’s neck  _ hard _ , and he lowers himself, ducking down to meet the boy as he surges up, crushing their lips together. 

It’s messy, wet and full of teeth warring to nip at bottom lips. 

Oliver’s always  _ loved _ kissing, and Elio acts like he’s been hungry for this for a long time. 

He has a stray thought, a wonderment, if perhaps he’s just been blind all this week? 

If his signals  _ haven’t _ gone unread? 

And Elio is simply… shy for the most part, just like him? 

Oliver barely has time to consider, when the hand on his neck slides down, down to trail over his shoulder, past his arm and lands promptly on his ass, groping him roughly, and making him cry out. 

He muffles the sound well into Elio’s mouth, but god forgive him, is being manhandled something he likes? Apparently so, judging by how his cock aches. 

Elio’s lips break away from his to allow his cheek to nuzzle against the side of Oliver’s neck. 

“I want to come in your mouth... please?” 

Elio’s cock jumps in Oliver’s hand, and his eyes flutter shut as he nods, whispering a fervent  _ yes, _ leaving off the curse, while backing up, and leaning in to finally have a taste of the boy’s chest. 

Oliver’s jaw stays loose and his tongue swipes over Elio’s skin until he’s nestled right between those long legs, putting both hands to the sides of his hips, and barely reaching around to have a feel of  _ his _ ass. 

Elio rocks up, and nearly smacks Oliver in the face with his cock, but he turns just in time to apply his mouth to the side of the shaft instead, and looks up to catch Elio’s glassy eyed stare, and bitten red lips.

“Fuck.” He says it again in Italian, at least, Oliver thinks so, but by then both of Elio’s hands are tugging on his hair, urging him to do what he’s been thinking about for far too long. 

Coherent thought escapes him.

Oliver makes Elio come within a handful of moments, perhaps sucking too hard, and licking too eagerly, he’s not sure. He does know he’s never going to forget the way it sounds when Elio’s breathing hitches and breaks off into a whine, as his cock pulses over Oliver’s tongue, and his thighs tremble under his hands. 

Elio pants through his aftershocks, and seems to appreciate Oliver kissing his stomach and nosing over his ribs, teasingly rubbing spit slick fingers over his nipples, and dragging out the bliss. 

His own cock is still hard, and likely making a mess of his swim shorts, but he’s not sure what to say. 

Can he possibly demand what  _ he _ wants? Hell, all his stuff is all the way in the other room. 

Elio makes the decision for him, and grabs one of his hands from where it rests on the boy’s hip, urging it backwards, under his ass to nestle right over his cleft. 

Oliver’s eyes flutter closed as he feels Elio’s hole twitching against the pad of his middle finger. 

“Put as many inside of me as you want. Then fuck me.”

Oliver blinks, dazed, focusing on his own hand, then Elio’s fairly small but pert behind. “Are you sure?”

Three of his fingers can about match his cock, while fully hard, and Oliver is definitely that. 

“Yes. Here.” Elio twists around on the bed, retrieving a jar of what he guesses must be lube from the secret drawer beside the bed, and Oliver gulps. “This is what I interrupted, isn’t it?”

“Yes and it’s way more fun if you’ll be the one to take me, now won’t it?” Elio asks, singsong, mocking him, even as he smirks. Oliver exhales on a ragged breath, and then smiles. 

“You’re damn right.” He sits up just enough to slip out of his own swim shorts, catching Elio’s appreciative look and subsequent jaw drop before he can hide it. 

Oliver slicks up two fingers to start, and then Elio’s tugging him back down, so that he’s almost draped over the boy’s body while trying to angle his hand just right. Both of Elio’s legs frame his waist, and he’s yanked into another kiss, so he can only feel out what he’s doing, no peeking. 

Oliver’s imagined this too. He’s thought about how Elio would react to each and every touch, how his tight ass would look as he swirled his tongue around the twitching rim, and wondered if his cock would dance upon his stomach. 

Now Oliver can only  _ feel _ everything he does to Elio while he’s kissed breathless, and it’s good that he already jerked off in the shower this morning, or he’d be  _ ruined _ by the way Elio’s hands grip hard on his shoulders when he adds the second one. 

Oliver rests his forehead against Elio’s, and hopes that the boy can’t feel him trembling. 

That would be a mood killer, wouldn’t it? Him, nervous? 

“I’m ready, come on, put it inside me, please.” Elio says, breaking through the fog of self doubt in Oliver’s head, and he returns to the present, having completely missed when he added a third finger, and the sight of Elio’s hole stretching pink and shiny with lube around him steals his breath away. “Okay.”

Oliver gently pulls his fingers out with an obscenely wet noise and catches the way Elio whines at the loss, but when he strokes over himself and swiftly replaces the touch with the head of his cock rubbing over that same fluttering muscle, everything happens all at once. 

Elio hisses out a “please” and Oliver’s gaze snaps up to his face, while the boy’s heels dig into the back of his thighs, and the next thing he knows, he’s halfway inside. 

Being burned alive by how fucking  _ good _ it feels, the way Elio is tight and hot and so responsive and sensitive beneath him, grasping for a hold on Oliver’s naked back, blunt nails digging into his skin. 

He’s bracing both hands on the bed, trying to rock into Elio without making the frame creak too much, and Elio’s not making it easy. 

He clamps down around Oliver on purpose, making him have to muffle a curse into the boy’s neck, and hears Elio doing the same, but with his shoulder, before then biting down. “You can’t leave marks-” Oliver starts, and then he  _ knows _ he hits Elio’s prostate, going off the involuntary gasp, and sudden squeeze. It’s nearly enough to make him come, but Oliver’s barely in, he can move. 

He can  _ fuck _ Elio as he requested, he can. 

It just drives him insane, rocking in and out of the perfect clench of muscle, until Oliver’s arms start to tire, and his thighs are screaming at him. He almost collapses over Elio when he finally lets himself come, burying himself all the way inside, deep as he can, shaking through his orgasm, feeling the boy’s long arms and legs securely clinging to him. 

Elio actually pecks him on the cheek when Oliver returns down to earth, and realizes he’s on his back, in Elio’s bed, in his room, naked as the day he was born. He can’t feel tacky lube on his cock, or sweat on his skin. He blinks over at Elio and opens his mouth in question. 

“I cleaned us with your suit. Now it’s properly dirty.” Oliver almost laughs.

Elio drags a hand down his chest, and the contact is enough to make his spent cock twitch with a valiant effort. “You know I’d like to taste you, someday.” He says it offhand, casually, and Oliver has to wonder if he means… like he did to Elio, or another way. 

“Oh?” Oliver hopes he doesn’t sound eager.

Elio’s answering smirk tells him he’s failed, utterly. “Oh, yes.” 

  
  


~~~


End file.
